


Yuri!!! On Ice Ficlet Collection

by Phyona



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol, Anxiety, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, M/M, Manhandling, Shower Sex, pining!victor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2018-09-09 13:29:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8892547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phyona/pseuds/Phyona
Summary: A place for me to dump my tumblr ficlets about these two perfect ice husbands.Read on tumblr





	1. Post Engagement Coda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coda ficlet set right after the ep10 engagement and dinner. When Yuuri and Victor get back to their hotel room, Yuuri is not amused with Victor’s announcement that he’ll only marry him if he wins gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even remember who I was before YOI tbh

Victor’s back hits the hotel room door the moment the lock clicks.  Yuuri’s grip is firm on his sides, just shy of bruising, his breath hot where it puffs against Victor’s jawline.

“Yuuri?”  

It’s a moment before Yuuri replies.  Victor’s heart is loud in his ears, his eyes wide with surprise and instant, staggering arousal.

“You told me you’d only marry me if I won gold.”  Cold fingers grip Victor’s scarf, grazing his throat, before tugging it from his neck and sending it to the floor.  “You said it in front of everyone.”

Yuuri pushes him harder into the wood, inserting a thigh between his legs.

“I…didn’t—“ Victor stutters, his shopping bags slipping from his hands. 

Yuuri grabs Victor’s hair and jerks his head to the side.  He presses his teeth to the exposed bend of Victor’s neck.

“It was embarrassing.”  The words are mouthed into Victor’s skin, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Why?  Do you not think you’ll win?”

The fingers in his hair tighten, making his jaw fall on a gasp.

“Don’t tease me.”

“Me?  I would never.”  Victor risks snaking his arms around Yuuri’s back, holding him.

“I’m going to do everything I can to win.”

“I know.”

“But if I don’t, if I make a mistake—“

“Yuuri,” Victor says.  He unravels Yuuri’s scarf, before cupping Yuuri’s jaw and drawing him up until their eyes meet.  “You aren’t going to make a mistake.”

Yuuri’s gaze searches his, sparkling in the low light.

“But if I do…”  The fiery confidence he’d displayed only a moment before seems to have left him.  He’s reverted to the unsure, self-conscious boy Victor first started coaching .  While Victor finds this side of him incredibly endearing, he wants more tonight.

Victor leans in, pausing when his lips are a hairsbreadth from Yuuri’s.  He can taste Yuuri in his mouth, can feel the heat radiating from his flushed cheeks. With careful fingers, he finds Yuuri’s right hand and the gold band he’d put there.

“I would have married you the night I met you.”

It doesn’t seem possible, but Yuuri’s blush deepens.

“Y-you mean…the night I was so drunk I don’t remember anything?”

"You have no idea how captivating you are.  But after this competition the world will know, and everyone will want you.  You’ll be coveted by all who see you.  I’d be a fool not to marry you as soon as you’ll let me.”

His words hang in the air, Yuuri frozen before him. Then, something fractures, and Victor is slammed back into the door, hot lips locked against his own. Yuuri rips off his jacket, sending errant buttons flying across the room, which would be annoying if Victor wasn’t so ruthlessly turned-on.  

Rough hands clench in his sweater, spinning him around and shoving him towards their beds.  

Victor basks in the attention, happy to be manhandled. Yuuri is glowing, confidence and eros pulsing from like an aura.  The competition won’t stand a chance tomorrow if he channels this into his short program.  Victor is sure of it.

The breath leaves Victor on a shaky exhale when Yuuri sheds his own jacket and shirt, eyes blazing like a predator’s.

Yuuri strides to him, crowding him back onto the closest bed and crawling on top of him.

“As your coach, I should probably tell you to rest,” Victor says as Yuuri sucks on the side of his neck.

“Why tell me when you can help me instead?”  Yuuri slides his arms beneath Victor’s body, grinding on him in one delicious thrust.

“Are you asking me for something, Yuuri?”  Victor smirks, scratching his nails up Yuuri’s bare sides.

“We just got engaged,” Yuuri says, not answering his question at all.  Victor thinks the deflection is amusing.

“Yes, we did.  I’m glad you noticed.”

“I’m going to have trouble sleeping.”

“Well, that won’t do at all.”

“There’s a way for you to help me relax.”

“Is there?  That’s good.”

“ _Victor_.”

Yuuri props up on his elbows and glares down at him. Victor can’t help but find him adorable, the high flush on his cheeks and crooked glasses utterly disarming.

With a graceful move, Victor flips them, tangling their legs together and pressing down on him with his full weight.  Dilated eyes stare up at him, longing etched into the flecks of brown and gold.  Victor kisses his desire into Yuuri’s lips, savoring the contact, before pulling back to look at him.

“You make me very happy,” he murmurs.  It wasn’t what he’d intended to say, but it comes out anyway.  He grazes a hand down Yuuri’s side, before sneaking it into the space between their bodies.  Yuuri’s mouth falls open when Victor cups him between his legs.

“Victor—“

“You’re going to be incredible tomorrow.”

In tantalizing, practiced movements, Victor rubs at him, long fingers sliding and caressing in all the ways he’s learned that Yuuri prefers. Yuuri whines, arching up 

“You’re going to win,”

"Victor.”

“And then I’m going to marry you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record I wrote this just after ep 10 came out....aka before ep 11 snapped me in half over its knee.


	2. Victor Takes wasted!Yuuri to his Room Post Banquet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Stripper Pole Banquet Incident™, Victor guides drunk!Yuuri back to his hotel room. Aka desperately pining!Victor is canon and also all I’ve ever wanted.

Victor has no idea how he ends up being the one charged with guiding a plastered Yuuri Katsuki back to his hotel room, but he admits he didn’t put up much of a fight.  

As they stumble down the hall, his arm around Yuuri’s waist, Victor can’t explain the tingling flutter of warmth in his chest.  Before the banquet, he hadn’t even known who the Japanese skater was. Now, he doesn’t think he’s ever going to forget.

Yuuri is muttering, his hand resting sluggishly on the side of Victor’s neck, his feet dragging on the carpet.  If Victor wasn’t in impeccable shape he’d have difficulty keeping him upright.

“Are you sure you’re in 304?” Victor asks.

“Positive.  Mostly. Mostly positive.  If I’m wrong, you could just take me back to your room,” Yuuri slurs, shooting Victor a downright scandalous wink.  “I promise I don’t steal the covers.”  Victor’s eyes bulge, his cheeks flaring with heat.

“I think it’s best if you sleep in your own room.” He doesn’t add that he can’t fully trust himself.  Yuuri wasn’t the only one sampling the champagne, or dancing like a fool.

“Your loss.”

Victor doesn’t disagree.

When they finally reach room 304, Victor is panting from the effort.  He props Yuuri against the wall beside the door, which is a mistake because Yuuri uses the opportunity to pose like a damn escort.  His crookedly-buttoned shirt rides up, revealing smooth skin and a faint trail of hair.  He stares at Victor through half-lidded eyes, sliding a suggestive hand down his own chest.

Victor gulps.

“I, uh, need your key, Yuuri.”

“It’s in my pocket,” Yuuri replies, making no effort to retrieve it.

Victor holds out his hand, but Yuuri just cants his hips.  With a sigh, Victor tries to salvage the last of his self-control.

“Which pocket?”

Yuuri shrugs.

Victor steps close and takes a rallying breath. With a stiff, clinical touch, he inspects the trouser pockets on Yuuri’s rear, but comes up empty.  He avoids looking at Yuuri’s face, and definitely doesn’t think about how perfect his ass is, either.

Swallowing, Victor reminds himself that he’s only trying to be a gentlemen, guiding a poor, helpless drunk skater back to his room. There’s nothing inappropriate about it. There’s no reason for his heart to pound, or for sweat to prickle on the back of his neck.

He slides each of his hands into Yuuri’s two front pockets.

A small noise breaks from Yuuri’s throat, and Victor’s eyes dart up before he can help it.

Yuuri is beautifully flushed, his lips parted and pink, his eyes glassy.  He looks at Victor through long lashes with a surprisingly sharp gaze.

“Is this a preview of your coaching, Victor?”

“I—“

“I’d be such a good student for you,” Yuuri murmurs, pushing off the wall and draping his arms over Victor’s shoulders.  He presses their hips together, trapping Victor’s hands in the pockets between them.  “I’d do anything you asked.  I’d work so hard for you, give you so much pleasure.”

Yuuri’s lips are so close Victor can taste his breath, and yet he’s frozen, utterly incapable of remembering why this is a terrible idea.  

“Will you let me show you?” Yuuri whispers, his eyes sliding shut.  Victor would barely have to move to kiss him.

Somehow, Victor manages to yank his hands from Yuuri’s pockets, the illusive keycard between his fingers, and pull away.

Yuuri whines, collapsing back against the wall, but Victor ignores him.

Thankfully, the room number Yuuri gave him was correct, because the key works and the door swings open.  Victor walks Yuuri to the bed with an arm on his back, but when he tries to shove Yuuri onto the mattress, Yuuri manages to snare his arms about Victor’s neck and kick his feet out from under him.  

They fall, Victor yelping as he collapses onto the bed with Yuuri stuck beneath him.

With Yuuri’s legs and arms wrapped around him, their faces are mere inches apart.  Yuuri’s hair fans out on the comforter, along with the necktie still strapped to his head.  He’s smirking up at Victor, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“You could stay here, you know,” he says.

“You’re drunk,” Victor replies, trying to remind himself why saying “yes, please, oh god” is a not an option.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does.  You might not want this when you’re sober.”

Yuuri bursts into laughter, startling in the quiet of the room.

“Don’t be ridiculous.  I’ve been in love with you since I was eleven.”

Victor goes stiff, his head jerking back in shock. Yuuri seems totally unaffected by the admission.  In fact, he yawns, arching in a stretch that rubs their groins together.  Victor bites back a moan.

“I even have posters of you all over my room back home.”

“Um.”

“So are you going to sleep with me or not?” Yuuri says, lips catching on the words.  He looks like he can barely keep his eyes open.  

“I…can’t,” Victor chokes, trying to extract himself from Yuuri’s grip, and fight back the near-painful blush burning on his cheeks and ears.  

Finally, he staggers to his feet.  Yuuri splays out on the mattress with a casual sensuality that makes Victor’s mouth go dry.  His shirt is hanging on by a button, his legs spread in a way that pulls the fabric taut at his groin.  

“I’m leaving,” Victor announces, in perhaps the most impressive display of self-restraint of his young life.  Yuuri starts kicking off his shoes, his fingers fumbling at his belt buckle.  Victor backs away towards the door.

“Okay, Victor,” Yuuri sighs.  Victor turns, grips the door handle.  “I’ll see you in Hasetsu.”

“I—“

“Please?  You’re the only one who can be my coach.”

“I’m sure that’s not–”

“I _need_ you.”

Victor doesn’t answer, exiting before he says anything he’ll regret. The door slams behind him, and he leans back on it, trying to calm down.  He curls his fingers into his hair, and smiles until his face hurts.

That night, when he finally manages to fall asleep, he dreams of a city by the sea, and of a playboy that bewitches him, only to leave him, alone and unsatisfied.

When Victor knocks on Yuuri Katsuki’s door the next day, straightening his jacket and adjusting his hair nervously, he receives no answer.  

Yuuri has already checked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone help Victor, for the love of god


	3. Shower Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Victor share some special shower time the morning of the Grand Prix Final. 
> 
> Warnings for Emotional Blow Jobs™, Yuuri vacillating wildly between being a trembling virgin and an unholy sex vixen, and Victor showcasing his inferiority where stamina is concerned.

Yuuri lets the spray wash over him, leaning on his forearms against the shower wall.  He closes his eyes, and sucks in a slow, humid breath.

Today is the first day of the Grand Prix Final.

He uses the pad of his thumb to spin the new ring on his finger, and wonders for the twentieth time where Victor went.  Yuuri doesn’t want to be needy, but it was hard not to feel rejected when he’d woken to an empty bed the morning after his engagement.

He presses his forehead against the cool tiles, swallows down the ache in his throat, and fights the irrational prickle of tears in his eyes.

As if on cue, there’s a knock on the bathroom door.  

“Come in,” Yuuri says, trying not to sound manic.  He doesn’t turn around for fear of what Victor will see in his expression.

He hears the creak of the door swinging open, the click of Victor’s fancy shoes.

“Mind if I join you?”

Heat flares in Yuuri’s cheeks, a tingle of anticipation and nerves swelling in his belly.  He knows he’s being silly.  They’ve bathed together countless times, though that was always in a hot spring.  A small hotel shower feels entirely different.

“No,” he croaks.  “I don’t mind.”

He listens to Victor’s belt buckle hit the floor, to the rustle of fabric, and tries to remember to breathe.

The glass door slides open behind him, then closed, and two hands curl around his waist.

“Cold!” he yelps, jerking, but Victor doesn’t let him go.  A gentle kiss is placed on the wet nape of his neck.

“I was out for a walk.”

“Yeah, I know.”  Yuuri winces at how bitter he sounds.  He senses Victor go stiff behind him.

“I wanted to let you sleep,” Victor says, stepping closer.  His body is a warm line against Yuuri’s back.

“I don’t like…”  Yuuri trails off, cursing himself.  It’s hard not to be distracted into honesty with Victor so close, no barriers between them.  

Victor’s lips slide across the pulse point on his neck, to the edge of his jaw.

“Waking up without me? I’m sorry, Yuuri.  I had to do some thinking.”

His words trigger a spike of anxiety.  Yuuri cants his head so he can just see Victor’s face in his periphery.

“About what?”

“About us.”

The panic flares. Yuuri’s throat goes dry and he clenches his fists on the tile.  He should have known it was too good to be true.  It was stupid to get his hopes up.

“Oh,” he says, voice cracking.

“Stop that.”

“I understand if you—“

“I’m not going to leave you, Yuuri.”  Victor’s hands slide to his stomach, low and intimate.  Yuuri shivers, his breath hitching.  “I was thinking, how would you feel if I moved to Hasetsu?  Permanently.”

Yuuri startles, spinning around in Victor’s arms and getting a face full of water.  Chuckling, Victor maneuvers him out of the spray.  He presses him back into the tiles, hands resting high on Yuuri’s rear.

“You want that?” Yuuri says, rubbing the droplets from his eyes.  “Really?”

“Yuuri,” Victor sighs. “We decided to get married last night. This shouldn’t be surprising to you.”

“I’m just…not…”  Yuuri huffs, angry with himself for being nervous. He’s been doing better.  “It’s hard for me to believe you want this.”

“Is it?”  Victor sneaks his hand between their bodies and takes Yuuri in hand with a firm grip.  Yuuri’s head bangs back against the wall, his mouth falling open.  “Where is your eros, solnishko?”

“I-“ Yuuri gasps. “I don’t know what that word means.”

“Solnishko?  It means sunshine.”  Victor punctuates with a long pull on his dick, his cerulean eyes hyper-focused on Yuuri’s face, as if he’s cataloguing every small reaction.  “Show me your eros, sunshine.  I need to see it.”

Hands shaking, Yuuri holds the sides of Victor’s neck.  

“Kiss me,’ he breathes. Victor doesn’t hesitate, locking their lips together and slipping his tongue into Yuuri’s mouth.  Yuuri opens for him.  He scratches his nails down Victor’s back, swallowing the moan his fiancé makes. With a nip to Victor’s bottom lip, he pulls back.

“I want your mouth on me,” he says, blushing fiercely the moment the words are out.  Victor looks at him like he’s not real, his lips pink and swollen, his eyes burning with need.

“Yes, Yuuri.  That’s exactly what I want to hear.”

Victor drops to his knees gracefully.  He grips Yuuri at the base, drags his tongue up the side of his shaft.  Yuuri’s knees quiver.  

“I love the taste of you.”

Yuuri moans, vision searing white as Victor takes all of him in one go.  It’s frightening how good he is at this, how quickly he learns the ways Yuuri wants to be touched.  He never pushes too far, innately conscious of limits even when Yuuri doesn’t know them himself.

Weaving his fingers through Victor’s damp, silver hair, Yuuri tugs, making no effort to guide Victor’s movements, but reminding him of his presence, his control.

“I’m going to show you today, Victor,” he says, breathless.  “And you will know, with every move, every jump, that I’m thinking about your mouth on me while I skate.”

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Victor whispers, pausing before he takes him deep. His hand snakes around Yuuri’s ass, kneading him before sliding a few fingers between his cheeks, a promise of what’s to come when the competition is over.  They’ve never done anything but fumble at each other.  This is the first time either of them have used their mouths, and the idea of _more_ is electrifying.

Yuuri frequently wonders if they’re doing things out of order, if it’s normal to move in together, declare love, and kiss before getting engaged, but not have sex beyond a few frantic hand jobs.  He has no context.  

Still, it seems to be working, though part of him is anxious for more.  He wants to try everything with Victor, to trust him with the most hidden, intimate parts of himself.

“Victor.  I want to be inside you—“ Victor cuts him off with a moan that shoots up his dick and makes his bones tremble.   “And I want you inside me.  I want to be as close to you as it’s possible to be.”

“Yuuri,” Victor says when he pulls off, nudging his forehead against Yuuri’s hip.  “You are incredible.”

With a tug on Victor’s hair, Yuuri demands his attention, making blue eyes snap to his.

“Stop talking.”

Victor exhales shakily, staring up at Yuuri like he has no defense, no way to prepare for this.

And then he takes him down to the root, sucking hard and making Yuuri’s hips jerk.

It’s not long before heat coils in Yuuri’s belly, his toes curling. He trembles, carding fingers through Victor’s hair and whining on every breath.  

“I’m gonna, m’gonna— _Vitya–_ “

At the pet name, Victor makes a startled noise, his fingers slipping on Yuuri’s ass, his rhythm faltering.

Catching Victor off-guard is hotter than any technique Victor could use with his tongue.  Yuuri arches off the tiles, spilling deep down his coach’s throat and keening.

Victor takes it all, frantic, starving for it.  Seeing his desperation takes Yuuri’s pleasure to the next level, over and over, until he sags against the shower wall, boneless.

Victor stumbles to his feet in a rush and crowds Yuuri in, arms braced on each side of his head.  He kisses his face, his eyebrow, his nose, the arch of his cheek.  In a frenetic, quaking rhythm, he ruts against the crease of Yuuri’s hip.

Yuuri is utterly pliant, basking in release, as he allows Victor to mutter praises into his skin.

“Yuuri, so good, so beautiful, going to marry you, I can’t—“

Cutting him off, Yuuri grabs Victor’s right hand and sucks his ring finger in his mouth. He takes the digit down to the root, letting his teeth catch on the golden band, as he observes Victor’s reaction.

His coach looks stunned, pupils blown wide, mouth open.  A high flush spreads across his nose.

“Fuck me,” he says, voice cracking.  Yuuri gives his finger one long suck, before pulling off with a pop.

“Maybe after I win gold.”

A broken, sweet whimper breaks from Victor’s throat, and it takes Yuuri a moment to realize he’s coming on Yuuri’s hip and belly.  He blinks in surprise as Victor slumps against him, breathing hard into his shoulder.

“Well, that was…easy.”

“You have no idea what you do to me,” Victor pants.  “I swear, usually I last longer than–”

“Victor,” Yuuri says, taking his face in his hands and drawing him up until their eyes meet.  “I’m going to show you all the eros I have today.”

“I know.”

“But I…I need you to—“ Victor silences him with a slow, delicate kiss.  He covers Yuuri’s right hand with his own, pressing their rings together with a ping.

“I’ll be with you the entire time.  I told you, Yuuri.  I’m never going to leave you again.”

“Even…e-even if I lose?”

Victor squeezes his hand, staring into eyes with a spark of ferocity.

“You aren’t going to lose.”

He says it with such conviction, such passion that Yuuri can’t help but believe him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victor "I swear this has never happened to me before" Nikiforov


	4. Honeymoon Sickfic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri gets sick with the flu on his honeymoon with Victor, and thinks he’s ruined everything.

“I can’t believe I did this,” Yuuri groans, words muffled as he buries himself face-down under a mountain of pillows.

“You didn’t do anything,” Victor says.  He sits on the mattress and rests a hand on the back of Yuuri’s thigh.

“I ruined our honeymoon.”

“No you didn’t, Yuuri. Everyone spends most of their time in bed on a honeymoon.  You just…happen to have the flu while we do it.”

Yuuri flips away a few pillows and pushes up on his forearms.  He glares at Victor over his shoulder.

“This is not what we’re supposed to be doing in bed,” he says, sniffling.  

The edges of his vision are fuzzy, his joints aching.  He feels a little like crying, but the last thing they need is for him to burst into tears.

Victor places a cool palm against his cheek.  It feels impossibly good, and Yuuri leans into it, eyes slipping shut.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice cracking.  His bottom lip trembles.  “I wanted this to be good so badly.  We’ve been working non-stop, I just wanted to relax with you.”

“We are relaxing.  Look at me; I’m perfectly relaxed.”

Yuuri flops over onto his back, sprawling out and dislodging Victor’s hand.  Victor rubs his chest instead, in slow, soothing circles.

“Why didn’t I get a flu shot?” Yuuri mutters.

“If you had, you still might have caught it.  They aren’t a guarantee.”

“Yeah, but you got one and you’re not sick.”

“Not yet.”

The gears click over in Yuuri’s head.  He wrenches away from Victor, covering his mouth with his hands.  The movement makes his head throb with pain.

“Then what are you doing!?” he says through his fingers.  “You should get away from me.  Go to the beach or something.  The only thing that could make this worse is if you got sick too.”

Victor arches a sculpted eyebrow.

“Given what we’ve been doing the last couple days, it’s too late to worry about that now.  We’ve shared more bodily fluids—“

“Okay, okay!”  Yuuri would be blushing if he wasn’t already flushed with fever.

“And I have a much stronger immune system than you do.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes, wincing when his headache spikes.

“How can you even know that?”

“And I’m not leaving you,” Victor says.

Yuuri uncovers his mouth, canting his head to see Victor’s eyes.

He finds such adoration, such naked devotion in them that his mouth goes dry.

“Victor–”

“Want me to get you some water?”

While the idea of Victor taking care of him is tempting, Yuuri hates being a burden, especially when they’re supposed to be celebrating.  Though Victor has mostly purged him of his doubts, Yuuri still worries Victor will wake up one day and realize what a horrible mistake he’s made.  He has to keep his interest, keep surprising him.

“I have a better idea,” Yuuri says, crawling towards him.  He slides a hand high on Victor’s thigh.  “Since you’re not worried about getting sick…”

Victor’s eyes narrow, a dangerous spark igniting in the blue.

“Absolutely not.”

Yuuri flinches, the rejection cutting far deeper than it should.  He knows it’s logical for Victor to turn him down.  He is, after all, disgusting right now.  No one could want him like this.  Not even his husband.

He can’t seem to fight the prickle of tears behind his eyes as he jerks his hand away.

“I…right, sorry,” he says, slinking back.

Victor grabs his wrist before he can get away and tugs him close.  With two firm hands on his cheeks, he forces Yuuri to look him in the eye.

“Not because I don’t want you.”

“But I’m—“

“You’re gorgeous.” Victor touches a feather-light kiss above the bridge of his glasses.  “There’s little I want more than to take you apart, bring you so much pleasure that you’re drunk with it, desperate for me.”

“ _Please_ ,” Yuuri says, fisting his hands in Victor’s t-shirt. He feels like he’s burning, raw and vulnerable under the hold of the virus.  

Victor gathers him into his arms and onto his lap.  Yuuri presses his hot face into the cool skin of Victor’s throat.

“But I want to make _you_ feel good,” Yuuri says.  Victor seals his palm over the nape of his neck.

“You’ve already done that every day that I’ve been with you.  Let me take care of you now…”

Yuuri sighs, mucus rumbling in his chest, and let’s himself go limp, surrendering.  He angles his hips in anticipation of Victor’s touch.

“—by insisting that you drink fluids and take a nap,” Victor adds with a fake-innocent smile.

“B-but you said you wanted me more than anything!”

“I said there was _little_ I wanted more.”

“You were teasing me.”  Tears start to well up in Yuuri’s eyes.  He knows he’s being sensitive, but he can’t seem to stop.  “I think it’s better if you leave me alone for a little while,” he says, rolling off Victor’s lap.  “Like you said, I have to nap…“

Victor puts his hands up, placating, as Yuuri crawls across the bed and lies on his side.  

“Is that what you want?” Victor says to his back.

Yuuri shrugs.  A tear drops off his nose onto his pillow.  He’s thankful that Victor can’t see it.

“Doesn’t matter what I want.”

Yuuri feels Victor’s weight leave the mattress, and he closes his eyes against the ache in his chest. He doesn’t want Victor to leave, not at all, but he can’t take it back now.  And besides, the less Victor sees him like this the better.  Everything he says only seems to make things worse, and he wants to salvage what he can of their ruined honeymoon.

A few moments later, Yuuri hears the clink of a glass being placed on his nightstand.  Soft lips press against his forehead.  He blinks as Victor gently removes his glasses, only just realizing how close he is to sleep.

“Shhh,” Victor murmurs, carding fingers through his hair.

“M’sorry,” Yuuri mumbles before he goes under.

***

When Yuuri creeps back into waking, everything feels wrong.  It’s dark.  His body is clammy and quaking with shivers.  His throat feels like he’s gargled glass and sand.

“V-Victor?” he croaks.

For a jarring moment, Yuuri has no idea where he is.  He searches his blurry surroundings and longs for his husband.

“Victor?” he tries again, louder.

Muffled footsteps patter in the next room before the door is eased open.

“Yuuri?”

“I don’t feel so good,” he says pathetically.  Victor strides across the room in a millisecond.  He flicks on the bedside lamp and touches the back of his hand to Yuuri’s cheek.

“You’re burning up.”

Victor hands him his glasses, which he puts on with trembling fingers.

“Can you have some water for me?” Victor says, encouraging him to sit up.

“Am I dying?  I feel like I’m dying.”

“No, sweetheart, you’re not dying.”

Once he’s sitting up, Victor tips the cup against his lips, and he drinks, suddenly desperate for it.

“Why don’t you want to have sex with me?” Yuuri asks after he’s consumed most of the water.  Victor blinks.  His mouth opens and closes several times before he replies.

“I always want to have sex with you.”  

“No you don’t.  You don’t like me anymore because I’m sick.” Yuuri has a sneaking suspicion he should stop talking, but his thoughts are slippery, and he doesn’t have enough energy to bother.

Victor places the cup back on the bedside table.  A small smile curls the edge of his lips.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Yuuri says.

“I’m not—“

“You are.  You think I’m gross because I have the flu and you don’t want to have sex with me and all I want is one of those frozen drinks with pineapples and funny straws, and you don’t care.”

Victor is fully grinning now.

“Of course I care, Yuuri. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“Unless I want you inside me.  You won’t give me that.”

A blush pinks the high arches of Victor’s cheeks.

“I…will give that to you when you feel better.”

“See!”

Yuuri crosses his arms and sinks back into the pillows.  He might be pouting.

With gentle fingers Victor pushes the hair off Yuuri’s forehead.  Yuuri grabs his hand and holds it against his face.  It’s wonderfully cool.  Yuuri imagines it drawing the fever from his skin.

“Yuuri.”

“What.”

“You know that you don’t have to have sex with me to keep me interested in you, right?”

Yuuri frowns.  He swallows against his swollen throat, and tries to pluck a clear thought from his clouded mind.

“But….but why else would you marry me?  I’m not even a good enough skater to win the Grand Prix Final, so what is there besides sex?”

Victor sighs, shaking his head.

“I married you because you are adorable and special, and sexy, and deep, and you make my life mean something.”

“Well I married you because you have nice hair.”

Victor starts, his eyes going blank.  

“You…you married me because of my hair.”

“Yup.  I like the way it goes ‘swish’ while you skate.”

After a long pause, Victor starts to smile.

“I’m glad you like it,” he says at last, expression lighting up.  Yuuri loves when he looks happy like this.  It makes warmth unfurl in his chest.  Or maybe that’s just the fever.

“Victor?”

“Yes, Yuuri?”

“Did I ruin our honeymoon?”

Victor tucks a strand of Yuuri’s hair behind his ear.

“Of course not.  The only things that matter this week are that you and I are together, and that we love each other.  Besides, I like taking care of you.”

Blinking, Yuuri stares at him with glassy eyes.

“Promise?”

“Promise.  Now, do you want me to go get you a virgin piña colada?”

Yuuri reaches for him, tangling his fingers in Victor’s linen shirt.  He pulls him close and touches their foreheads together.

“Please don’t leave,” he whispers.  He drags Victor onto the bed, settling once he’s lying down at his side, face tucked into the bend of Yuuri’s neck.  

“I like you with a fever,” Victor murmurs into his skin.  He draws a line of kisses up the side of his throat, fingers tracing the bumps of his ribs.

“That’s not very nice.”

“You always bind your true feelings so tightly.  I like seeing you with some of your chains off, as much as I want you to feel well. It’s almost as good as getting you drunk.”

“You’re one to talk,” Yuuri grumbles.

“Why do you say that?”

“You’re terrified of letting your emotions show.  You’re the only person I know who smiles when he’s sad.”

Victor huffs a breath into his neck.

“I guess that’s fair.”

Victor holds him tighter, nuzzles the edge of his jaw.

“Do you want to watch some TV with me?”  He murmurs the words as though he’s proposing wild sex rather than binge-watching whatever terrible show is on hotel cable.  

It works.

“More than anything,” Yuuri says.

Victor smiles up at him.

Maybe their honeymoon isn’t a failure after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ep 12 killed me. I am dead. Wrote this from the afterlife all because of two special words:
> 
> ....pair skate.


	5. Young!Yuuri watches young!Victor's Press Conference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ficlet based off this prompt from an anon:  
> Prompt! Yuuri's reaction to seeing Young Victor's press conference where he's not paying attention and eating chocolate (from Yuri on Museum)? Or maybe Victor recalling that?

Based off this image from Yuri On Museum:

* * *

 

 

Yuuri sits on the floor, hands on his knees, and rocks back and forth as he waits for Victor’s press conference to come on.  The only thing he likes as much as watching Victor skate is seeing him interviewed after.  It’s his best resource for learning more about the boy behind the legend.

Victor always seems confident and happy in public, but Yuuri senses there’s something shallow about it.  He wishes he understood who Victor truly was, that Victor trusted him enough to share secrets and be his real self.  Yuuri knows it’s stupid, though.  A genius like Victor would never be friends with someone like Yuuri.

“Yuuri, do you know where my chocolate is?” Mari barks from the other room.  

“Nope,” Yuuri calls back, before frantically stuffing chocolate wrappers into his pockets.  He’s developed a habit of eating when he’s nervous or excited.  Really, Mari should know better than to leave her candy out when Victor is on TV.

Fortunately, Mari must get distracted because she doesn’t pester him any further.  

Then the press conference comes on and Yuuri forgets all about hiding the junk food he stole from his sister.  

He rises up on his knees, bouncing with anticipation and stuffing chocolate in his mouth (he might eat part of a wrapper), as Victor comes into frame.

A hot blush rises on Yuuri’s cheeks.  Victor’s hair is falling beautifully around his face; his skin is flawless, his eyes stunningly blue, as always.  A tingling pressure spreads in Yuuri’s chest.  It’s a sensation he’s been feeling more and more when he looks at Victor, and he’s not quite sure what it means.  

“Victor,” asks one of the reporters from off-screen.  “You’re only seventeen and you just won your second World Championship. You’re totally peerless.  Is there anyone you’ll be celebrating with tonight?”

At first, Victor wears his usual heart-shaped grin, his eyes crinkled. Then he opens his mouth to speak and no words come.  Yuuri watches, stomach twisting strangely, as the smile slips from his face.  His eyes cast down.  Yakov jumps in for him, talking animatedly about his star pupil’s success, but Yuuri can’t focus on the subtitles to understand what he’s saying. He can’t stop staring at Victor’s expression.  Something is wrong.  He knows it. He wonders if he’s the only one in the world who does.

Without looking, he grabs another piece of chocolate and brings it to his mouth…at the exact same moment that Victor picks up his own chocolate bar and takes a bite. Yuuri freezes.  He can hardly believe his eyes.  Part of him knows it’s ridiculous, but he can’t help but feel a connection between them.  

He knows in his adolescent, hormonal, fanboy brain that it’s fate.

 

***

 

“You remember that?” Victor asks.  He cups Yuuri’s hips where Yuuri straddles him on their couch.  

“It always stood out to me.  Usually you were so engaged in those sorts of interviews.”

“But you saw right through me, didn’t you.  And then you thought it was fate that we were both eating chocolate at the same time.  God, you’re adorable.”  He presses a kiss to Yuuri’s cheek.

“I was thirteen,” Yuuri grumbles.  He fiddles with one of Victor’s shirt buttons.  “I shouldn’t have told you.”

“I’m glad you did.  You were right, you know.  I remember that interview.  It was the first time I realized how alone I was.  Outside Yakov I didn’t have any friends.”  He tucks a strand of hair behind Yuuri’s ear.  “I wish I’d known you then.”

“No you don’t.  You would have thought I was some kind of crazed fanboy.”

“I still do.”

Yuuri flicks him on the arm.  He pouts his cutest pout, knowing exactly what effect it will have.  Victor crumples.

“Please don’t make that face.  You know I’m a fanboy for you too.”

“Prove it.”

Victor’s eyes spark.

“How?”

Yuuri leans in close, taking Victor’s jaw in his hand to demand his undivided attention. Victor licks his lips.

“Go get me some chocolate.”


	6. Yuuri vs Victor, Chopped Edition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To prove who is the better cook, Yuuri and Victor have a Chopped! competition in their kitchen with Yurio as judge. (what am i even doing at this point)
> 
> Based off the prompt from [phoenixrei](http://phoenixrei.tumblr.com/):  
> "Oooh, which one of them do you think is the better cook? Or do they cook together? FOOD HEADCANONS PLS *chinhands*"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My name is Phyona and I'm here to bring the nonsense...

“You only have two minutes left,” Yurio snaps from his vantage point at the kitchen table.  He holds a knife in his fist like a scepter, leaning back with his feet propped up on a chair.  He resembles a king deciding whether or not to sentence his servants to the guillotine.  “I’m not eating it if it’s raw, Victor, so move your ass.”

Victor darts across the kitchen to his side of the stove and cranks the burner to high.  He frantically flips his beef with a spatula, cursing himself for spending so much time carving decorative flowers out of beets. Still, he’ll be damned if he–Victor freaking Nikiforov–loses points for presentation.

“Behind you,” Yuuri warns. He presses up against Victor’s back as he passes, hands slipping a little too low on Victor’s pelvis.  Victor shudders violently and almost knocks the skillet off the stove.

“No cheating, pig!  I saw that!”

Yuuri doesn’t respond, though Victor catches him smirking in his periphery.  

If Victor thought Yuuri would pull his punches now that they’re married he was gravely mistaken.  Yuuri attacks their little cooking challenge like it’s the World Championship all over again.  Victor’s not easily intimidated, but he’s never been so distracted during a competition of skill.  He can’t stop staring at the way Yuuri looks in his apron; the tie falling low over his pert rear, his hair pushed back and mouth set in a confident, determined line.  

Yuuri glances over from where he’s assembling his plates.  Their eyes meet.  Something heated passes between them that makes Victor’s knees weak.  

Then Yuuri murmurs seductively, “Your beef is burning.”

“Shit!”

Somehow, Victor manages to finish his dish in time.  He bends over, bracing his hands on his knees to catch his breath.  He has new appreciation for the chefs on TV.

“I don’t even need to taste this to know you lost,” Yurio says, glaring down at Victor’s messy plate. Victor can’t disagree.  Compared to his tragic beef stroganoff Yuuri’s stir fry is dazzling.  The meat is perfectly cooked, balanced with the sauce and vegetables.  It smells heavenly.

“Yeah,” Victor sighs.  He steals a piece of broccoli off Yuuri’s plate as Yuuri sidles up to him.

“The flowers you made are cool, though,” he says into Victor’s ear.  Victor smiles, eyes soft and fond for his husband.  He tucks his fingers into Yuuri’s back pocket.

“I guess this means you win.”

“No shit, he won,” Yurio says.  “Why did you even suggest this dumb competition?”

Victor shrugs.  “I wanted to see what Yuuri would do if I said I was a better cook than him.”

“He kicked your ass.”

“Yes,” Victor says, fond. “He did.”

Later that night, after Yurio’s been walked home, Victor climbs into bed next to Yuuri.  Yuuri doesn’t look up from his 3DS, even when Victor wraps around him and nuzzles into the side of his neck.

“You never mentioned what I’d get for winning,” Yuuri says casually, still tapping away at the controls.

“The thrill of victory wasn’t enough?”  Yuuri doesn’t respond.  “What do you want?”

Snapping his 3DS shut, Yuuri sets it aside and lets Victor pull him close.  Victor thrills at the unexpected desire in Yuuri’s eyes.  He bites his lip, waiting patiently for whatever lurid sexual favor Yuuri requests.  He’ll eagerly do just about anything.

“I want you to do the dishes for two weeks.”

Victor deflates.

“I suppose I deserve that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I have a thing for Yuuri in an apron??
> 
> Yes.


	7. Strong, Dom!Yuuri Makes Victor Weak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off the prompt from [xyliandra](http://xyliandra.tumblr.com/):
> 
> "Victor loves how strong Yuuri is and is a mess whenever Yuuri shows off that strength."

Yuuri doesn’t notice at first.

Sometimes, he’s still in a state of disbelief when it comes to Victor. The fact that his hero is actually attracted to him, let alone in love with him, is frankly mind-boggling. He can’t be blamed for being a bit, well, oblivious.

It’s the reason he assumes Victor is being clumsy when he drops his coffee mug as Yuuri enters their flat. Why would he think it has anything to do with the luggage Yuuri just carted up three flights of stairs on his own without breaking a sweat?

“I was going to help with those,” Victor says, staring at Yuuri with a dazed look, coffee pooling at his feet.

“I got it. It wasn’t that heavy anyway.”

Victor’s throat bobs. Yuuri frowns at him, confused by his reaction. He ignores him for the sake of carrying his stuff into Victor’s bedroom. Or, he thinks with a smile, their bedroom now.

The next time it happens, Yuuri’s vacuuming in the living room while Victor sits at the kitchen table, reviewing choreography on his laptop. Yuuri wants to make sure he’s pulling his weight, to show how much he values being welcomed into Victor’s space. He decides to move the couch and clean under it properly.

Since he doesn’t want to bother Victor while he works, he lifts the couch himself and deposits it a few feet to the side. He’s just finished sucking up dust bunnies when he notices Victor staring at him.

He flicks off the vacuum.

“What’s up?”

Victor startles and then, though Yuuri can scarcely believe his eyes, a deep flush pinks his cheeks. His eyes dart back down to his laptop like he’s been caught doing something scandalous. He almost looks…shy.

Yuuri walks up to him. When he threads his fingers into the short hair on the back of Victor’s head, a full body shudder ripples through him. Yuuri’s eyebrows arch up his forehead.

“Are you alright?” he asks, utterly perplexed.

“Yeah, of course,” Victor breathes. “I just…that couch is heavy. I can’t pick it up on my own.”

“Oh. Well, I can do it. Now that I’m living here, you might as well put me to work. I’ll lift anything you want.” He says it airily, punctuating with a self-deprecating laugh, but Victor does not respond as he expects. He blinks up at Yuuri, eyes sparkling and dilated. The blush spreads.

Sudden realization washes over Yuuri. His eyes dart down to Victor’s crotch.

“Are you…turned on?” he asks, disbelieving.

Victor shuts his eyes. He nods once, biting his lip.

The next moment Yuuri drags Victor to their bedroom, but not before filing this new information away for later.

For the next few days, Yuuri tests his theory, performing various demonstrations of strength where Victor can see him. He opens stubborn pickle jars, does frequent pull-ups in doorways, and cleans under every piece of furniture in the house. At least their flat is immaculate.

Victor’s reactions to Yuuri’s displays only get more intense. Once, when Yuuri casually flexes on his way out of the shower, Victor actually moans. He slaps his hand over his mouth like he can stuff the sound back in, and Yuuri pretends not to notice. Another time, when Yuuri is doing one arm push-ups in his boxer briefs, Victor walks right into a wall. Yuuri vows to be more careful as he pinches Victor’s nose with a tissue until the bleeding stops.

The experiment comes to a head the night Yuuri tries to retrieve a chunk of food that’s bounced under the refrigerator. He isn’t even attempting to show off when he tilts the refrigerator back a couple centimeters and wipes up the errant carrot, which makes Victor’s reaction even more surprising.

“I can’t take it anymore!”

Yuuri loses his grip and the fridge hits the floor with a thud, rattling precariously.

“What?” He scrambles to his feet. Victor is right up in his space, his eyes blazing. He looks frantic, almost hurt.

“You’re doing this to torture me.”

“Doing what?”

“You know what! Showing off and never giving me what I want. Is it because I forgot to put the leftovers away last week? Or because I don’t take out the trash enough? Because I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you want just…please, please stop teasing me. I feel like I’m going insane..”

Yuuri blinks. Heavy silence hangs about them as he tries to work his brain around Victor’s words. It seems he miscalculated somewhere, pushed too hard, and he needs to make it right.

“I’m not teasing you.”

Victor just stares at him. Yuuri notices the tired slant to his eyes, the balled tension in his shoulders. He reaches out, sliding his fingers gently over the pulse point in Victor’s neck. Victor melts into the touch.

“What do you want?” Yuuri murmurs. Victor looks back at him with a plea in his eyes, willing Yuuri to translate him without words.

And just like that, Yuuri gets it.

“Oh.”

“This is embarrassing,” Victor whispers.

“No,” he says. He puts weight behind the word, making it an order. Victor goes stiff at first, then a shiver rolls through him, taking his tension with it. “No, it’s not.”

In one swift move Yuuri grabs Victor’s ass and lifts him into his arms. Victor wraps around him with a desperate sigh of relief, pushing his forehead into Yuuri’s collar.

Yuuri carries Victor to their bedroom easily. He throws him onto the mattress, climbing over him and essentially doing a push-up to kiss him.

Victor is already a mess.

As Yuuri maneuvers him where he likes, dragging his teeth across Victor’s skin or clutching at him with a near-bruising grip, Victor can’t seem to get enough air. He whines on every breath, scrabbling at Yuuri with trembling fingers. Yuuri has never seen him so overwhelmed.

“Is this it?” Yuuri breathes into Victor’s mouth, nipping his lip. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes.”

“You want me to manhandle you? Show you how much stronger I am than you?”

“Please.”

It’s a rare occasion that Yuuri can get Victor to beg. It makes him want to push, to show his devotion; to give Victor everything he wants.

With strong arms Yuuri tugs Victor to his feet. His legs almost give out, but Yuuri is there to catch him. He lifts Victor back into his arms and braces him against the wall.

From this simple action Yuuri can tell that Victor is already close. Yuuri grinds against him, dragging him higher, deeper; taking command. He tilts Victor’s head to mouth at his jaw.

“Come on, baby,” Yuuri whispers. He feels drunk on his own dominance, on the kingdom of Victor’s body, belonging only to him. He likes knowing that he controls Victor’s pleasure. It’s another role for Yuuri, just as his Eros character, but it’s one he revels in more than he expected.

He’s never felt so strong.

It’s also a different role for Victor, and not one Yuuri thinks he’s shared with anyone else. Showing Yuuri this side of him is a gesture of trust. Yuuri silently vows to give such a gift the care and appreciation it deserves.

As Victor comes apart in his arms, Yuuri murmurs praise into his ear, holding him through it. Victor cries out like he’s in pain. He clings to Yuuri like a lifeline.   
  
Yuuri eases Victor onto the bed when the aftershocks have settled, and finds his own release with his hand. He marks Victor up, and can tell from Victor’s glazed expression that their enjoyment in this act of possession is shared.

“That was…intense,” Yuuri breathes after he catches his breath. Victor is splayed on his chest. Yuuri runs his fingers through Victor’s damp hair.

“Was it too much?” Victor asks, small. Yuuri squeezes him.

“Not for me. For you?”

“No. Not if I’m with you.”

It’s exactly what he wanted to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has anyone ever been weaker than Victor Nikiforov is for Katsuki Yuuri?? Like honestly.


	8. AU Where Yuuri Won the GPF

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt from anon: 
> 
> "Viktuuri AU where instead of meeting because yuuri lost the GPF and went into a depressive slump, he won gold and knocked Viktor a place down on the podium"

Yuuri won.

The wonderful, staggering truth of it has yet to hit him, even as he stands on the highest tier of the podium, the crowd roaring about him.  His gold medal is heavy on his chest, and his heart pounds against it. He smiles so wide that tears bead in his eyes.

Then he looks down at his lifelong idol, standing beside him.  Beating Victor is more significant than winning the Grand Prix Final.  It means he’s finally on the level of his greatest hero. It’s everything he’s ever wanted, second to being Victor’s friend.  And maybe making out with him…on their wedding day…before growing old together. Whatever.

Victor’s height puts him at eye-level with Yuuri, and he’s already staring at him.  Yuuri can hardly breathe.

“Congratulations, Yuuri,” Victor says through a heart-shaped smile.  Yuuri feels a sense of complete unreality.  

“T-thank you.”

Victor leans in. Yuuri can feel his breath against his ear.

“You’re a beautiful skater,” Victor murmurs.  A shiver rattles through Yuuri, his face burning.

“Not as beautiful as you,” someone says.  It’s a few heartbeats before Yuuri realizes it’s him.  Oh god, he just hit on Victor Nikiforov.

Victor tilts back, his eyebrows raised.  Yuuri levitates out of his body.

Then they get barked at to pose for a photo.  

“Put your arms around each other,” calls one of the photographers.  Christophe Giacometti, the third place winner, doesn’t hesitate, resting his hand on Yuuri’s ass.  Yuuri hardly notices.  Victor’s hand is a hot pressure on his spine, his fingers pressing in and rubbing. Yuuri feels the touch everywhere. Shaking, he places his palm high on Victor’s shoulders, almost to his nape.

Though it’s probably all in Yuuri’s head, he feels a spark of something between them; an acute mutual attunement that he’s never felt with anyone before.

Somehow, Yuuri survives the ceremony without fainting.  It’s a whirlwind of congratulations, photos, and autographs after that.  He doesn’t have a moment’s peace until he’s getting ready for the banquet the following day.  His anxiety is starting to catch up to him.  Regardless of his victory, he doesn’t like socializing in crowded rooms, but Celestino reminds him of his sponsorships.  At least Victor will be there.

When he arrives in the banquet hall, he looks around for Victor and chugs back some champagne.  Victor’s silver hair is hard to miss, and his smile lights up the room.  Yuuri finds he’s not the only one ogling him.  There’s something about Victor that captivates everyone in the room.

Then Victor looks over at him.  Recognition tempers his polite grin, and, though Yuuri could be imagining it, a hint of sadness softens his eyes.

He appears to excuse himself before making his way across the crowded room to Yuuri.  Yuuri downs another glass of champagne before Victor walks up to him.  

“How’s the banquet treating you?” he asks, polite.  “Reveling in your victory?”

After a moment of panic, Yuuri finds his words.

“Not really,” he admits. “To be honest, I kind of hate these things.”

“You aren’t the only one.” Yuuri is taken aback.  Victor always seems to love charming the crowd at fundraisers and banquets.

“You’ve done so many, you’re probably sick of them by now.”

“This may be my last,” Victor mumbles into his glass.  He empties it, and places it on a passing tray.  Yuuri frowns as Victor’s words hit him.

“What do you mean?”

Victor glances at him.

“I mean that I don’t know if I want to do this anymore.”

Yuuri gasps before he can help it.  Victor seems startled by his reaction.

“You can’t mean that,” Yuuri breathes.

“Is it so hard to believe? I’m twenty-seven.  It doesn’t thrill me like it used to.  Maybe it’s time to walk away.”

Yuuri wants to cry. The idea that Victor could be sick of skating when he still has so much to give chills him to the core.

Yuuri opens his mouth to say something, anything, but Yakov beckons Victor from across the room.  

“That’s my cue,” Victor says, shooting Yuuri a conspiratorial eye roll.  He turns away before Yuuri can stop him.

All of Yuuri’s joy at winning flickers out.  He feels responsible for Victor’s words, even though he knows it’s irrational.  He doesn’t regret defeating him, but he still knows it’s on him to change Victor’s mind.  He may be the only one who can.

Unfortunately, Yuuri can’t find the courage to approach him.  Even though they’ve spoken enough to be acquaintances by now, he still sees Victor as his hero.  Talking to him is scarier than performing his free skate the day before.

He convinces himself that more champagne will help.  That’s his first mistake.

The second is deciding in his booze-soaked brain that challenging Victor to a dance-off is a brilliant idea.  

“Victor,” he slurs, stumbling up to him.  “I have an idea.”

“Yuuri.  What’s your idea?”

“I challenge you to a dance off.”

Victor blinks slowly at him.

“A…dance off?”  Yuuri notices distantly that Victor is slurring his words.  It seems he’s not the only one hitting the champagne.  A smile starts to pull at Victor’s lovely lips.  “What do I get if I win?”

“My number.”  

Victor looks just as astonished as Yuuri feels.  He can’t believe he just said that out loud.  But hey, Yuuri doesn’t care.  Yuuri is full of champagne and Victor is more gorgeous in person than he ever imagined. Life is short.

“I see.  And what do you get if  _you_  win?”

“I get you as my coach. What do you say?”

Victor’s mouth opens and closes.  Yuuri doesn’t have the patience to wait for his answer.  He throws his arms around Victor’s neck.

“Be my coach, Victor.”

And Victor, to Yuuri’s great surprise, blushes.  It’s the most adorable thing Yuuri has ever seen.

 

***

 

“And that’s how you asked me to be your coach,” Victor finishes.  Yuuri hunches over in their bed, burying his face in his hands. Victor rubs his back.

“I’m an idiot,” Yuuri says. “I can’t believe I don’t remember this.”

“You were enchanting. You saved my career and my life, and all with your pants off.”

“I had my  _pants off?_ ”

Yuuri groans, flopping onto his back.  Victor wraps around him, squeezing him close.  He nuzzles Yuuri’s cheek.

“You know much I love you without pants,” he purrs, fingers sliding down to Yuuri’s bare hip.  “I was very attracted to you.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t my gold medal?  Maybe you just wanted to get close enough to steal it.”

Victor glares at him.  His hand slips between Yuuri’s legs, making him arch off the mattress.

“I’m going to make you pay for that,” Victor says into Yuuri’s ear.

“I can’t wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you like Yuuri probably loves pokemon.


End file.
